Last week, I led a writing seminar where I was questioned whether I had expertise on how to keep from exploiting the experiences of others when crafting fiction. The inquiry is quite valid and has become more frequent and imminently critical as authors grow to dread the aftermath of sharing stories about experiences they have not personally undergone. It’s turning into a touchy subject, to profit from narrating hardships if one hasn’t personally experienced those hardships, as if readers are acknowledging the authors’ suffering rather than paying for their own reading enjoyment.
I naturally hold some doubts about the argument here, admittedly in part because my career and income revolve around conjuring and narrating experiences I haven’t encountered. I would advocate for everyone’s right, and indeed duty, to attempt to perceive the world through the lenses of others, irrespective of whether we are artists or not. Recognising that different individuals abide by different norms and realities seems to me to be an elemental aspect of human existence, and crucial to our capacity to co-exist. If we claim that creative acts are politically inadmissible, that no one should dare to comprehend experiences other than their own, we alienate ourselves and one another, insinuating that the suffering of others is essentially foreign and beyond understanding. During difficult times, I have felt the most isolated when well-intentioned friends have remarked, “I can’t possibly imagine what you are enduring.” Yes, you can, I have wanted to respond. You just don’t want to. It’s precisely as you’d picture it.
Compassion is a demonstration of creativity. So is forgiveness. At times, we have to reverse engineer behaviours that appear unnatural or irrational: how could your mindset have evolved to a point where self-violence or harming others seemed like the best or the only path? There are those who label suicide and self-harm as despicable, egotistical acts, but they are acts committed by individuals for whom their own suffering and demise are viewed as a boon, fair, and appropriate. If you are unable to envisage how that could feel, make another attempt: visualise reaching such a nadir that you believe your non-existence would be a blessing to all. That’s what it feels like.
Many of us have an appreciation for macabre mysteries, yet we usually perceive ourselves as incapable of ever killing another human being, associating such actions with monstrous and anomalous figures. Whilst it’s common to claim never having possessed a murderous impulse, the reality is that such thoughts cross most of our minds in the midst of daily situations like public commuting, work meetings, driving, or even when confronted with family conflicts or news stories. We’re usually aware enough to suppress these impulses aware of the ensuing consequences or because it’s simply the idea of violence that we entertain, rather than having a genuine intent to proceed.
Drawing from the wealth of the literary canon, one learns to see the world through the perspective of a bourgeois white man. Sarah Moss once stated, “I previously conjectured that every person had an abundance of sensory perspectives in their minds.” She argues that the issue is not her indulgence in kale and sourdough but rather that nutritious food should be considered a fundamental right. Sarah finds the term ‘first world problems’ to be highly offensive.
The challenge lies in envisioning societies plagued by inequality and injustice. It’s usually less complex to visualize societies from the top-down since this perspective allows us to anticipate and meet the expectations of those who wield power, elements that are deeply ingrained in our culture and society. Someone who doesn’t personally identify as a bourgeois white man likely still understands this particular viewpoint alongside their own.
To adeptly write from an alternate standpoint requires diligence, with the level of effort rising in proportion to how distinct the perspective is from your own. It’s not entirely impossible to replicate experiences foreign to your own, as art’s role includes offering insights into unfamiliar worlds or shedding new light onto known ones. However, creating such revelations demands extensive dedication and it’s ultimately this effort, rather than personal tribulations, that cultivates a superior artist.